


feeling my way through the darkness

by hanorganaas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blindfolds, Community: hc_bingo, F/M, Headspace, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Tie Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanorganaas/pseuds/hanorganaas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil cannot sleep, Melinda uses an unconventional method to help him with that</p>
            </blockquote>





	feeling my way through the darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [millygal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/gifts).



> Using the "Sensory Deprivation" Square **hc_bingo** my lovely friend [Milly_Gal](http://milly-gal.livejournal.com/) requested a fic with Phil/Melinda. With Coulson's extensive Tie collection how can I not?

There is always a method to Melinda's madness, but somehow Phil does't quite understand when he said he needed to somehow get out of his own head, to help him finally get some fucking sleep….Why she would leave him blindfolded and bound with his own tie collection as she did her tai chi? He has total and complete trust in her, which says alot for the past couple of weeks. He doesn't mind being bound. The enforced stillness forces him to stay focused and breathe. It’s the blindfold.

It reminds him of how he died. How dark it was. But that was oblivion. He could feel nothing...only weightlessness.

This is different, he’s living and breathing and his senses are on overdrive. He can tell by the way he feels the cold and soft material touch the bridge of his nose and the heated skin of his temples. He is fully aware of how _wet_ his brow was as it drenched in sweat. Every little detail he senses may have missed was now being processed in full detail.

He tries to pinpoint Melinda’s location in the room. Any small sound above the low hum of the air conditioner, obnoxiously louder than usual, that could tell him she was still there. The floor slightly creaks. His head turns slowly following the sound of her breathing. He closes his eyes behind the cloth.

She breathes in through her nose, the sound quick and ragged as she lets the air into her lungs. There is a short pause. The chair beneath him creaks as he twitches -- ever so slighty. And then there is a softer sound as she breathes out through her mouth. There is another creak on the floor board. Melinda is moving into a new pose. Again she breathes in, holds and breathes in. His bound hands curl into fists as he tries to hone in on that sound...and that sound alone.

Breathe in, breathe out, repeat. Again breathe in, breathe out repeat. 

It is the only thing keeping him grounded and from slipping into full scale panic. It’s working. His heartbeat which before was thundering in his ear as it pounded against his ribcage, is beating at a small and steady pace. 

And then pattern stops. 

The senses are on overload again. The unwanted hum of the air conditioner is back again. He feels the sweat, how his t-shirt now clings to his skin, almost as if it is glued there. The sound of his breathing is harsh and his wild heartbeat is roaring in his ears. His face feels drenched not just with sweat this time, but with tears that flow lightly from his eyes and from behind the cloth.

“Melinda,” It frightens him how different his voice sounds. It sounds like a child crying out for his parent.

Her hand, with skin soft as silk touches his face. Again he twitches. He feels a slight pressure on his thighs as the chair moves and creaks beneath him. She's settling onto his lap.

"Phil I'm here," Melinda whispers planting a small kiss at the corner of his mouth and then another on the lips. "If you need to say the word because it's too much you can."

Phil wants to say it. The word is at the tip of his tongue but he's too stubborn. He's probably weak enough as it is. Why make himself weaker in her eyes?

"I'm-I'm fine," He rasps out. 

"No you're not," Melinda says. Her forehead touches his and her silky locks brush against his cheeks, "I may have taken your controland your sight but I gave you enough control to know your limits."

He feels a burst of air rush through his shirt as her hand slides against his skin. It snakes tracing patterns on his stomach. Her fingers are long as they move further up his torso before they stop right on his scar.

This isn't the first time Melinda touched the constant reminder of his demise and Phil knows this will not be the last. But this is different he CANNOT see her. She had never shown any signs of disgust before, what if now that he doesn't know how she is reacting...she is looking appalled and scared. 

He takes in a sharp breath and for a moment he feels nothing. All sounds are blocked out, not even the obnoxious hum of the air conditioner, or the feel of her fingers tracing the pattern of raised skin. It's like death...oblivion.

"Phil, breathe," he hears her sharp voice say in the darkness.

He obligiues, letting the air fill his lungs...and just like he did as he escaped the clutches of death, senses flooded him...this time with his lack of sight they are heightened and magnified.

Sweat, heat, breathing, humming, fingers, heartbeat, cloth, wood.

And suddenly a thin stream of water drips from his eyes from behind the cloth and down his cheeks. 

It's too much. Phil can no longer take it.

"Dethlok." He rasps out, he feels shame saying it but relieved.

The chair creaks and her weight shifts off of him. He hears Melinda move behind him. The binds are released and his hands move in front of him. And suddenly Phil realizes why she did this.

For the first time in a long time, instead of feeling tense, on edge and wired up...he's relaxed and absolutely exhausted. 

"Close your eyes," She says. 

He obeys. The cloth unravels from his head. He doesn't know how long it's been off his head but it's enough that it is a strange absence. It's like something is missing. He also realizes how wet his face is. A temporary feel which he knows will be gone soon. 

"Okay open." She says again.

Phil's eyes flutter open and it's amazing how absolutely bright the world is after being engulfed in darkness for so long. He came to that realization when he died by Loki's hand and came back to life. But it doesn't matter. Melinda guides him to bed. He settles in as she follows suit.

It is not long till the lights go off and he is engulfed by darkness again. He pulls her close and lets her settle against him. His senses only focus on her. Her scent, the feel of her skin beneath his fingers.He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply.

He just lets the sound of her breathing drift him off to sleep.


End file.
